


See Me After Sunrise

by GreatFuckingMaracas



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crystal is a sweetheart in his own way, Everyone Is Gay, Except John, Freddie is a fashion designer in this one, Implied Sexual Content?, Jim is the fucking best, M/M, References to Depression, Roger and Brian get drunk and just talk, Sad Brian May, Strangers to Lovers?, This is a long one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatFuckingMaracas/pseuds/GreatFuckingMaracas
Summary: If you were to ask Brian what he does during a party at Freddie’s, he would’ve said standing around and leaving early.That being said, tonight was different.Tonight, he went against his one rule of not drinking, and he’s happy he did.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: Meant To Be: The Soulmate Challenge





	See Me After Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to say that this challenge was super fun! 
> 
> I thank @pumpkinlily for being an amazing beta and giving me many ideas and @Phoenix_Queen for the amazing art!
> 
> I decided to do the “you can only see black and white until you meet your soulmate” type. This is definitely longer than I expected but it’s rather lovely.
> 
> Thank you, @emma_and_orlando and @sweetestsight for making this challenge.

**<https://phoenixqueen07.tumblr.com/post/643133703054311424/moodboard-for-see-me-after-sunrise-by> **

**London 1976** ****

_“It won’t be bad! Just a fancy little party with people from across the world!”_ Freddie’s voice rang through the phone as a roar of people was heard in the background, _“You might even find your soulmate!”_

“I don’t know…” Brian looked around his flat as he played with the stress ball in his hand.

Black and white. As always. None of the blues, greens, reds, or yellows that people who have found their soulmate see. He prayed for the day he’d meet his match. Although, his stomach churned with the idea. He spent days pondering on what his soulmate would look like.

_“C’mon, Bri. I don’t want to pull the business card but you were the one who was able to convince me to sell. I already announced that you were the reason I am so successful. They expect you to say something,”_ Freddie was pretty damn good at persuading, _“I even insisted on giving you some profit. I mean everyone loves the designs!”_

Brian sighed, knowing he’d regret this, “One hour and then I can leave?” The stress ball was out of his hand by now. 

_“Three hours and I won’t have any ladies try to get near you,”_ Freddie negotiated. 

There was another sigh on Brian’s side and Freddie knew he had him. 

“Fine.”

—

Brian pulled up in a ‘68 Cadillac in front of his best friend’s Victorian-style estate. Getting out of the old vehicle, Brian made his way up to the front glass doors. Booming music came from the inside. He frowned slightly when he looked through the glass. Black and white. Dread rushed through his veins. An emotion he’s never felt at one of his friend’s parties for yet another successful fashion design. It was what Freddie had said before he came over that played around in his head. 

_Maybe you will find the one._

His dark-haired friend took a notice in his arrival and gracefully glided to the door in his royal attire. A wine coloured cape with white fur trimming to a gold crown atop his long raven hair with tight black satin trousers. All according to Freddie himself.

“Brian, darling, come in. Come in,” his said in his cheery posh accent and lowered it to a whisper, “Your clothes match this time. Light blue button up and beige slacks. Still those god awful clogs.”

A warm chuckle erupted from the taller man and a smile stretched wide across his face, “Oh, fuck off! At least I’m dressed properly.”

“Fashion statement, dear.”

They laughed for a short minute before a twinge of jealousy ran through Brian. Jim was heading towards Freddie and gave them a grin once he was by his soulmate’s side.

“Hi, lovie,” Freddie whispered before placing a kiss on Jim’s red cheek. He giggled as he looked at Brian’s face, “Oh, Bri. Are you okay? You look… sad.”

Tears were welling up in Brian’s eyes, and he quickly wiped them away before they could fall. He was frustrated and miserable. 

“Tell us what’s on your mind,” the fashion designer soothed, grabbing the taller man’s hand and pulling him to an empty chair by the front door. Jim trailed behind, “Speak, darling.”

“C’mon, Fred,” Brian mumbled. 

“You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong now, dear,” Freddie had a fierce look in his warm eyes whenever a friend had a problem that needed to be spilled.

“I’m jealous,” the taller sighed. 

The older man’s eyes softened, “Shit, I completely forgot. I’m so sorry, it must be hard to be surrounded by people who’ve found their soulmates.”

It was hard, especially for Brian. He despised the fact that he was forced to have a soulmate to see colours other than black and white. Many incidents caused him his hatred for this way of life. 

His parents weren’t soulmates to begin with but fell in love since they couldn’t find their mate. It’s funny how love is. His parents only fell out of love when his mother found hers at a nightclub she went to with her friends. He was fifteen when they divorced, and she married her soulmate. His father drowned himself in alcohol. 

That was the most traumatic experience when it came to the whole process of whatever he was living for. 

“It’s not fair! Why can’t I see colours! Why do we have to have a soulmate to allow that! What a fucked up world we live in!” his laugh was overly sarcastic. 

The couple shared a glance and Jim whispered something into Freddie’s ear. The slightly shorter man nodded, “Bri, I’m off to fetch us a couple of drinks.” 

Freddie hesitantly walked off, looking over his shoulder to make sure Brian was stable. He was enveloped by the large amount of partygoers _he_ invited. None of the snobby rich people paid attention to Brian nor Jim. 

“Brian, I just wanted to say how sorry I am,” the younger man began in his Irish accent, “It’s… it’s hard to see the people you care for go off with their soulmates. I wish I could understand how you feel because, just like Freddie, I care for you. I might have known you for three years while Freddie’s known you for… what? Eight years? I just know you really are like family and you are no different from us because of soulmates or not.”

There it was. The second reason he loathes the soulmate idea. You’re treated like you’re fragile if you haven’t met yours. He’s lucky to have Freddie or Jim to tell him all the pretty colours that he’s missing out on. He’s lucky for that but still can’t get over the fact that society looks down at him, especially at this age, for not having a mate. 

_Colours? Who needs colours? I don’t,_ he thought. 

“Have we told you that you have bright hazel eyes or that you have dark chocolate brown hair?” Jim asked. 

“You have,” he murmured miserably. 

“What about your guitar? Y’know, the one you made?”

“You said it was red and that’s why Freddie suggested the _Red Special_.”

“Who’s the one who helped Freddie become successful with his fashion line?” Jim queried, a smile spread across his rosy cheeks. 

“I did?”

“You did! Now, who actually got me and Fred to meet?”

“I did. What are you going on about?” he was suspicious with the whole round of questions.

The man standing chuckled, “You need us as much as we need you. You’ve already accomplished so much without all the colours. You’re getting your Ph.D in astrophysics in a few short years.”

“When you put it that way, you’re not wrong,” Brian mumbled. 

“Now, get your ass up and go mingle!” Freddie exclaimed proudly once he came back with two glasses of caramel-coloured whiskey on the rocks and a champagne flute filled with the fizzy alcohol that normally inhabits it, “No ladies will get near you. I know you aren’t a fan of those.” 

He handed off the beverages to the two men. The glass with more whiskey was given to Jim and the other to Brian. Freddie took dainty sips of his sparkling champagne, held between his thin fingers. 

“Enjoy yourself. I’ve just seen one of my other friends. I’ll make an announcement in a little while,” Freddie waved the taller man off and walked off, Jim going somewhere on his own. 

The latter rolled his eyes and decided it was best to meet the crowd instead of being a loner all night. He was feeling a bit better than before. Nasty thoughts were spread across his mind making him slightly dizzy, but the alcohol eased the headache forming. 

It’s almost funny that the first face he sees in the well lit room after a helpful talk is his other close friend; John Deacon. A drunk John Deacon.

“Brian! How’re ya, mate?” his words were slurred.

He stumbled towards his sober friend. 

“Eh, I’m good. Where’s Ronnie?” 

“Ronnie?! She’s here! That’s crazy!” he giggled. 

His long brown hair disheveled and green eyes slightly bloodshot. Again, according to John since Veronica was his soulmate. Again, sending Brian into a depressive state for the first year of them being soulmates and being left feeling like an outsider. 

“How much alcohol have you had?”

“Five shots of tequila,” John answered with droopy eyes. 

Brian winced. 

“But it’s okay! Freddie has someone to take me home!” 

The taller man shook his head, “That’s not…” 

His eyes trailed to a peculiar sight in the crowd of rich men and women. A person with soft coloured hair and dazzling eyes. They looked gorgeous and were unlike anything he’d ever seen. They had this pale skin that brought out their facial features. A black denim jacket over a snowy white shirt and jeans darker than their eye colour hugged all the right places. Something inside him gravitated to the figure, and he needed to talk to them. 

“Deacky? I-I need to go talk to someone. Excuse me.”

John hummed in response and murmured something about getting another drink. Hopefully he wouldn’t, but John was a wildcard at parties. Never knowing his own next move.

Brian beelined towards the person and almost stopped when he realised he didn’t know why to say. He’d figure that out once he got to them. 

How would he address them? Sir? Ma’am? They looked like Debbie Harry but more masculine. 

They didn’t notice his intense staring which saved him from endless humiliation. This could be his soulmate. His soulmate looked like a literal angel. Angel. That would be the name for the mysterious person for now. Brian was only steps away when Freddie Mercury got in his way. 

“C’mon, dear!” the shorter man hooked his arm with Brian’s, other hand held his glass, and began dragging him towards a cushioned wooden chair, “Stand here and I’ll make the announcement. You’ll, then, be allowed to speak.”

Freddie carefully stepped onto the chair and heaved himself up to be able to see around the whole room. He took a spoon out of the back pocket of his pants and held it up. The champagne flute went the same direction. A loud ‘ting’ emitted when the spoon met the glass, catching the attention of almost everyone. Not Brian who was tall enough to survey the large ballroom sized room for the angel. 

Of course, they were a figment of his imagination. He would never find his soulmate. He chuckled bitterly to himself. He didn’t even pay attention to Freddie’s yapping, to focus on his self-pity. 

“...and I would like to thank my soulmate, Jim Hutton,” the cheery man lifted his drink in thanks, “and my best friend, Brian May, who pushed me to put this design out. Without him, we wouldn’t have made over two million pounds in sales this year. Bri, darling? Would you like to say a few words?” He was able to lay his empty hand on the boney shoulder. 

The smile from Brian didn’t quite reach his hazel eyes, “I just wanted to say I’m happy everyone for coming to celebrate the ‘ _Angel Wings’_ ,” truly an ironic name right now, “I’m sure without me, we’d still have them, but it’s nice to get the praise,” laughter went around the room, “I’m really proud of Fred. Cheers to him!”

The celebrants raised their beverages and went back to chatting and partying. Not paying attention to Brian slipping off to a hallway.

Down the empty corridor, he found a random room to hide away from the people. Luckily, it was a bedroom that hadn’t been trashed by a couple yet as Freddie’s parties are known for. It was crazy. 

Not the parties but what Freddie has become. Call him selfish, but Brian envies it. He knew the older man as Farrokh Bulsara when he first met him. Shy, quiet, and slightly self-conscious. Similar personalities brought them together. 

Now, fabulous Freddie Mercury was head of the greatest fashion label in all of Europe. Rich snobs from across the world would try to get appointments with him, pushing Brian to the side. Sometimes, he felt that the friendship was one-sided only to be proven like tonight that Freddie did, in fact, care for him. 

He could care for himself with a secret stash of boozes Freddie keeps in most bedrooms. Nothing like a light buzz to run your worries away. If he’s lucky, Brian might get intoxicated enough to forget about the sight that made his night. A person too beautiful to be real. God, he needed a drink right this second. 

The room he found himself in was a smaller bedroom so rummaging around for a bottle of anything was quick and easy unlike finding his soulmate. He opened cabinets, the closet, and checked under the sink in the bathroom. While searching in a drawer full of socks, his hand touched something cold and smooth. His long fingers wrapped around the item.

He held the Vermouth he found in a drawer up in triumph. Though, he knew that he’d need something else to even get a buzz. Searching further through the wooden drawer, he stumbled across a whiskey that would mix well with the other beverage. Both were half empty, so Brian uncorked them and decided to pour the weaker alcohol into the bottle of what he learned was Stagg Jr. Very little had dripped down the sides of the glass. He covered the top of the tall bottle with his thumb to swish around the mixture. 

Careful to not spill a drop, Brian shuffled to the twin sized bed against a thin wall and sat down on the springy mattress. 

Obviously a used room. 

He shifted his body so his back was against the glossy wooden headboard. The cold rim of the bottle was brought to his lips. A rather smooth taste ran down his throat and had a welcoming feeling to it. 

—

After a couple hours, or minutes, Brian wasn’t counting, there was a loud “thump!” against the door. Brian rolled his eyes before sipping at the drink in his hand that was only a fourth of the way gone.

_Another couple trying to mindlessly fuck in one of Freddie’s spare rooms._

_“Damned door is locked!” a feminine voice rang out._

_“Let’s just get in the storage closet,” another deeper voice muttered._

There was shuffling and silence for a moment. Then, the wall rattled slightly when a door, that Brian assumed led to a closet, banged against another wall. There was rattling once more when a door was slammed shut. 

The previous actions soured Brian’s mood just enough for him to find a new spot to keep some peace. Luckily, Freddie had a hangout spot on his roof, mainly for Brian to bring his telescope and get a better view of the stars. 

He’d have to weave through the mess of a crowd to make it up the carpeted stairway _and_ not spill a drop of his stress reliever. Unsurprisingly, the polished “dance floor” had thinned in partygoers. Majority going off to blow off some steam in different bedrooms, except Freddie’s, of course. 

Speaking of that man, he was in the corner, near the stairs, whispering into Jim’s ear. Both giggling. A happy couple. 

_Oh, don’t do that again, May! You’ll only hurt yourself in the process. Let him be joyful with his soulmate. He deserves this night._

He might be lonely but he’d never ruin his friend’s fun. So, with the bottle in hand, he trudged to the rustic stairwell with a jewel encrusted railing. He stopped momentarily to murmur to Freddie that he’d be going up to the roof. Not that the older man exactly acknowledged him, too busy getting handsy with his lover. 

That didn’t matter to Brian this time. He was more than ready to have some relaxation after an event like this. No more sweaty bodies. No more horrendous music, except the occasional Jimi Hendrix song. No more of the Angel who will forever haunt him. 

The person had the softest hue to their hair while their eyes popped in a colour he didn’t know the name of but already loved. If this person was his soulmate or real for that matter, he’d be the luckiest guy in the world. 

If they are a woman, he could fulfill his father’s dream of him getting married to a beautiful soulmate, having three kids together, and having a nine-to-five job. If they're a man, well, at least he could see the real world and not the black and whites he sees right now.

Sure, a same sex soulmate was frowned upon but not uncommon. If you want to get married to them, officials can’t necessarily _deny_ you of your bonded life. They could make the process a living hell though. They can shun and attack gay couples but it’s no worse than someone over the age of twenty-five who can’t see bursts of colours. 

Another part of him was in fear. This man or woman could not exist or not be the one. Just because you're soul-bonded doesn’t mean they can’t break your heart. 

Broken bonds. False bonds. Dying before meeting yours or vice versa. 

He could go on about what could go wrong. He always had commitment issues, ever since the divorce. Whoever had to have him needs to be ready for his problems. 

With a heavy sigh, he walked up the stairs, careful not to slip. 

—

“Oi, Mercury, have you seen Crystal!” bubbly Roger Taylor yelled over the chatter of the crowd, looking out for the only other person he knew without a soulmate.

“Oi, Taylor, I haven’t seen Chris!” he mocked back as he shuffled through the bodies in tailored suits and dresses. 

He gave Roger a peck on the cheek before looping his arm around the blond man’s slim waist. He leads him towards the side of the noisy room where some refreshments are laid out on a round cloth-covered table. 

“Oh my, you look dashing tonight. If I wasn’t bonded, I’d take you home,” Freddie gushed, “You look like a fifties greaser except a denim jacket and the shoes! Blue jeans just a tad darker than your eye colour and you’re still wearing those pitiful pink sparkly converse. They aren’t flattering.” 

“Hey! I’m fucking colourblind here!” he laughed, not hesitant in the slightest. 

“Certainly are!” 

He literally is. Roger knew he couldn’t see colours until he met his soulmate, but he didn't mind. When the day came, it came. He just hoped the guy loved him like he knew he’d love them. Well, he hoped it was a guy for all he cares. 

“You just can’t believe my luck!” Freddie exclaimed suddenly, removing his arm from around his friend and looked him in the eyes, “I finally got Brian out of the house!” 

“Brian who?” the blond asked.

“Brian May,” Roger was at a loss, “The one you talked to on the phone once and said he’s your perfect man but in more lewd wording.” 

“Oh, him.” 

If he was being honest, Roger was already fascinated by the man with only talking to him on a telephone. According to Freddie and the other man himself, he is studying astrophysics to get a PhD in it and plays a guitar that he made with his father. The band he was in never took off, but he was happy to play on his own. 

When they meet, they could hit it off immediately and create a band together. Roger was a good drummer after all. Oh, how wonderful it would be for him to be Roger’s soulmate. It was very wishful thinking. Three billion people on Earth over the age of eighteen and one of them was bonded to him. He pushed away the thought of Brian being his soulmate. He didn’t even know what the man looked like!

“He’s already here, but I wouldn’t go asking for him yet! He’s still kinda depressed about the soulmate thing. Jim gave him a pep talk and he’s now somewhere in the crowd,” Freddie explained quickly, “Please, don’t get too drunk. You need to stay for the speech. Shit, I better be off now. Gotta to greet more people.” 

He bounced off into the body-to-body crowd suddenly. Unsurprisingly, the pigs in suits moved out of the way for him. Roger hated rich people. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Freddie with all his heart but sometimes fame and fortune goes to the older man’s head. 

They strut away around in fancy outfits, servant by their side. Going to fancy dinner parties that usually end in soulmates going into the nicest hotel rooms to blow off steam. 

He hoped his true love wasn’t overly rich. 

He sighed before making his way to grab another beer from the table. Thank god Freddie didn’t have servers walking around with plates of expensive foods and glasses of fine wines. 

He bumped into someone and mumbled a quick ‘sorry’. It was a man he recognised but didn’t stop to speak to. He had better things to do like getting drunk before someone could comment on his appearance. 

He was able to make it past the people and grab a Stella Artois. He covered the cap with his shirt, wetting the fabric slightly, and popped it off. He brought the bottle back up and allowed the rim to graze his bottom lip. The glass was tipped up and smooth, bitter liquid ran down his throat. 

He let his mesmerising blue eyes scan the room for Chris before landing on a person with a sharp jawline. Something about the man across the room lured Roger in. He wasn’t the normal black and white but had… _colour?_ His button up was an odd shade as well as his trousers. Though, the outfit seemed to match. The unruly curly hair on top of the man’s head was lighter than the black he usually saw with a tint of another colour. Everyone around him was still black and white, making the much taller man stand out. 

It could be his poor eyesight. Not being able to see well with bright lights or from far away, but Roger was confident that man was his soulmate. Which meant he was gonna stand here and let the other figure it out and make the first move. He liked to keep people on edge until they broke and _had_ to come up to him. 

In a situation like this, it might be idiotic since he’d be back at his home in Cornwall, and he’d probably never see this man again. 

Did that thought stop Roger? No. 

He met his eyes trailed down the long legs of the man across the room and noticed the white clogs. He chuckled to himself quietly, shook his head, and carried on with his alcohol. By the end of this, he hoped to be as drunk as a pirate. 

He tossed back the drink until only backwash was in the glass. He turned for a beer once more and flipped around. The tall man was now talking to a slightly shorter person with wavy, long hair. A pang of jealousy hit him like a freight train. Roger was taught to not lust over someone because of looks, but the curly haired man was an intoxicating sight. 

Roger can’t believe that the other hadn’t seen him yet. Surely, he’d notice that something was out of the ordinary. The blond huffed and turned slightly to catch sight of anyone he did know, unaware of the man’s intense staring now. He stood around until he saw Crystal flirting up a redhead. Quickly, unbeknown of someone walking towards him, he swerved between party attendees to talk to the balding man. 

“Crystal! I’m in a fucking crisis!” he yelled dramatically with the back of his free hand laid over his forehead, making both Chris and the lady jump. 

The woman blushed softy and murmured something to get out of the conversation. She slipped away from the men to chat up a fella nearby.

“How do you always stop me before I can ask a chick if they want a drink?” Crystal arched an eyebrow. 

“Whatever could you mean?” Roger asked innocently, “Can’t I just tell a friend my problems?”

“No, you can’t,” he deadpanned.

The blond pouted, knowing Crystal could never resist his puppy dog eyes. 

“Fine. Let me light a cigarette first.”

In a flash, Chris pulled out a lighter and a cigarette from the back pocket of his jeans. Held between his index and middle finger, he put it in the corner of his mouth and flicked on the lighter. An black flame emitted from it, and he lit the stick. The tip became ashy. He took in a deep breath for the smoke to fill his lungs. 

“Now, what’s the matter?” he grunted behind the cigarette. 

“I think my soulmate is here in this very house.” he whispered. 

“Huh?”

“My soulmate is here!” he yelled over the music and chatter, people gave him odd looks. 

Crystal’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent for a moment. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and lightly dabbed the ash buildup to the ground. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, you’re in deep shit.” 

Roger rolled his eyes, “You're really not helpful sometimes. You know that?” 

The other man held up his hands in defense, “I’m trying my best here. It’s not everyday someone tells you they found their soulmate at a fashion-”

A spoon clinking against glass brought the conversation to a screeching pause as Freddie stood upon a chair. 

“Ladies and ladies,” he began cheekily, “I’m really excited about this year’s design. I remember when…”

Roger let the voice fade to the background when Crystal shook his shoulder, “Hey, are you okay? You aren’t looking so good.” 

He took one more drag of the cigarette and handed it over to Roger, knowing it helps calm him. 

“Yeah, I just… it feels stuffy in here,” he mumbled, twirling the fag like a drumstick before lifting it to his lips and taking a breath. He easily dropped it on the floor and crushed it.

Chris watched him as he pushed another beer into his hand and shoved him in the direction of the stairwell without much of a word. Roger already knew what he meant. _Go relax on Freddie’s rooftop._

Early on in his friendship with Freddie, they learned that he doesn’t do well with an overwhelming emotion. So, the roof was made as a “quiet place.” 

He stumbled up the polished steps. He gripped onto the railing. It was a coal black, in his eyes, that was cold to the touch. Upon first glance, it looks smoother than a bottle of bourbon. When you grip it, you can feel the rough chips and ridges of a well used object. 

The carpet laid across the expansion of the stairs had scuffs of shoe marks and wine red that it used to be was now burnt sienna, according to others. There was a stain from Roger accidentally spilling his new Stella Artois moments ago since he heard the sloshing sound. He could also feel the cold liquid running down the bottle and the black splotch on the ground. He was on his way to being drunk but still needed a push or two. 

He never realised how often he focuses on little things of a room until his mind is filled with thoughts screaming at him. He tumbled through the narrow hallways. Doors and pictures lined the walls eventually leading to Freddie’s bedroom door. Luckily, not spilling any more liquor. 

He reached for the shimmering gold handle, as Freddie had described, to push the wooden door opened. 

The light once pouring from the bottom engulfed Roger and the part of the hall he was standing at. He didn’t pay mind to the room itself and walked to the window that gave access to the roof. 

The lock was unlatched and the glass was easily slid up enough for a man his size to fit through. 

—

Roger laid on the concrete of the rooftop. It was the part of the roof that overlooked the large pool Freddie had. 

It was surprisingly comfortable up there. When it was put to use, patio couches were added and a beer cooler. Though, Roger was drunk, so he didn’t mind the ground. The sun set hours ago. The party was wearing down. 

The quiet of the night was so peaceful you could hear a pin drop. You could hear his heartbeat like the melody of an orchestra. The moment was almost perfect. Except for the fact his hair was tangled from over the hours, his drunken state, and the sound of someone walking on the roof. 

God dammit. 

He sat up quickly, back facing the way towards the area, “If you aren’t Fred, Crystal, or Jim, fuck off.”

There was a hum and someone plopped down with their back almost touching his, “Sorry, mate. I just can’t _handle_ the party scene.”

Roger didn’t register what the other had said because of _that_ voice. It was warm like coffee on a winter's day. Smooth like honey yet the right amount of accent. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but Roger was sure he’d heard that voice from somewhere long ago. 

“You can say that again, stranger,” he murmured, “God, I love myself a party when it isn’t surrounded by the rich. Just where I can get drunk and not worry about appearance.”

“I wish I could be free spirited like you. I’m sure your soulmate is a lucky gal having you,” he said almost bitterly. 

Roger chuckled lightly, “Mmm, I haven’t found him yet.”

“Oh, shit, I-I’m sorry. The m-majority of the men I know are-”

The blond rolled his eyes, “It’s fine. People have assumed worse. You want a beer?” he sloshed around the liquid in his bottle and frowned when the other man declined, “Oh, c’mon! If you want to lighten up a bit, you gotta drink something!” 

“I would, really, but I already have a little something,” Brian, although Roger didn’t know it was him, muttered before taking another swig of his mixture. 

“Sometimes, I really like to think of the colours even if they end up black and white in my mind. It gives me hope,” the blond revealed. 

“I’ve tried that and every time, it ends in me seeing dizzy and sad.” 

“Why’s that?”

Brian sighed, “I’m not traditional. I was born into an unbonded family. I don’t think it’s right we live in a world where you can see colours when you look and talk to your soulmate.”

“I get that but it’s exciting. If you do the math, there are three billion people over the age of eighteen, since soulmates can only meet each other at that age, and one of them is yours.” Roger explained proudly, “Let’s get your mind off that. How about we ask each other questions.”

“If it’ll quiet my brain, sure,” Brian mumbled in the same bitter tone. 

“What music are you into?” Roger asked cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

“Rock like the Beatles, some jazz, a bit of pop, and some of the classics,” he answered truthfully, “What’s your funniest memory from your childhood?” A bit of a personal question but Brian can feel that they are gonna get on well.

It took the blond a second to answer, “Hmm, when my sister lost her front teeth. She was, like, six and the damned things wouldn’t want to come out no matter how loose they were. I was an idiotic ten year old. Instead of trying to pull them out myself, I tied her teeth to floss and a door. The door slammed, the teeth were out, and I got my ass beat. Now, what’s _your_ best memory?”

Brian chuckled softly, “My friend, John, lived by a creek and skipped stones across the water sometimes. The first and final time I ever did it, I hit his mum’s backside when she had her back turned, helping John’s little sister.” 

Roger snorted, “You think _that’s_ bad! My friend, Crystal, thought the intern librarian was hot, so he chatted her up. Turns out she was gay and we were in year seven!”

“Nothing beats the time I outed myself to my lacrosse team. My coach said I was having trouble aiming straight and I said, ‘I’m having trouble being straight.’ I was kicked off the team a week later,” he laughed fondly.

“Damn, I guess that does really take the cake,” Roger giggled softly

They became silent a moment later but the giddiness stayed. Enjoying the presence of another person that wasn’t in a suit and tie. Sipping at their beverages. Roger was still working on his sixth Stella Artois. The wind swooshed by and the music coming from two stories down was heard faintly. If they knew the person right behind them was their soulmate, they’d be able to see the bright orange streetlights on the next street over. They’d be able to see the alcohol they were drinking instead of blindly guessing what unnatural _colour_ it was. Most importantly, they’d be able to see each other and have a loving relationship. 

Though, that’s for another story.

They didn’t know how long they stayed silent but the sun began to rise when Brian spoke up, “You know what’s funny?” 

Roger hummed.

“I thought I was gonna meet my soulmate today. I swear I was about to see colours for a few minutes when I was looking at them. Couldn’t even figure out if they were a male or female,” Brian rambled, “Though, they were gone in a second. I tried searching for them but went off to get drunk instead.” He holds up his more than half empty bottle of liquor. 

“Mmm, I’m sure they are still at the party. It’s rare for someone to imagine colours.”

“Thank you,” Brian murmured as his index finger circled the moist rim of the bottle, “Hey, I never did get your name. It’d be nice to get to know someone new.”

“Roger. Roger Taylor,” he said proudly, “Now, what about you?” 

“Brian May. Less extravagant than yours but it suits me.” 

Roger’s heartbeat sped up at that name and that voice finally clicked, “Holy shit! I remember talking to you on the phone! I think Fred made us talk or something.”

“Well, I guess we can’t hide away our faces behind a phone anymore.” 

They both giggle and, with the sun shining enough to let them see, they crane their necks to get a better look of each other. Hazel met blue and mouths dropped. A glass might’ve slipped out of one of their hands but the ringing in Roger’s ears was too loud to hear. His head was throbbing with the realisation that his soulmate was right behind him this whole time. 

“Holy fuck…” 

That was all that needed to be said before everything had colour. Neither moved as they looked at each other. So shocked they held their breaths and didn’t try blinking in hopes to not wake from this dream. 

Maybe Roger was the first to blink away because of his sensitivity to light but he’d never admit that. He was truly the happiest he’d been in years and from the talk he had with the other man some 

couple hours ago, the latter was ecstatic as well.

“I feel like I’m in heaven with an angel,” Brian whispered. It was cheesy but Roger blushed at the comment.

“Trust me, I’m not like any angel you’ve heard of,” he muttered back with a wink although his face was aflame. 

They turned themselves around fully to eye each other, and for Brian to eye the wet shards from the broken Stella Artois glass. Roger had to lean up with his lips pushed out. He pouted when his _soulmate_ pulled away. 

“I- sorry. I’m still surprised and… I really want to get to know you, Roger. Even new soulmates can have fights that could end in a broken bond. I want our relationship to grow instead of blindly getting official. We’ve only had one phone call and a half-drunk conversation,” Brian rambled, “Does that make sense? I don’t want to-”

He was cut off by soft lips pressing to his own. It took him a moment to comprehend what was happening, and he could only kiss back for a quick second before Roger pulled away. 

“It's okay, Brian. We’ll take it slow. I’ve never experienced this either, remember? Though, I’m gonna have to find a flat here to make this work,” Roger hummed. 

“Come live with me!” the blond cocked an eyebrow, “I mean I have an extra room and it'll be easier to pay the damned rent. God knows Freddie’s been helping me.”

The shorter man nodded, “That could work. Help us get to know each other as well.” 

“How about a flat tour tomorrow? At noon? Just give me your telephone number, and you can come over.” 

“Don’t you mean today?” Roger asked with a cocky smile, “How about, you take me home. Let me take a nap in the extra room and go from there?” 

“Let me guess, I don’t have a choice?” Brian whispered before allowing himself to lean in to connect his lips with the younger’s lips. 

“Exactly,” he replied right back when they disconnected their lips.

A smile grew on Brian’s face, “Fine by me. I’ve been wishing for so long to share my home with my soulmate.” 

“You’re taking the words out of my mouth,” Roger replied with a smile equally as bright, “Although, I have a feeling we should tell Freddie before we leave. God knows he’ll have our heads if we think of keeping this from him.”

“You’re right,” he answers as he stands up, leaving behind the bottles, and holds out his hand for Roger, “Let’s not make him wait.”

The blond laughs lightly while heaving himself up with help and nods. 

They leave behind the bottles on the ground and, for Brian, the bad memories. Both ready to be led into a secure life.


End file.
